


On silent feet...

by fabricdragon



Series: Shapeshifter and Werecreature shuffle [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat Q, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:34:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: a gift, because as Only_1_truth has said: you can never have too many Cat Q fics.inspired by chapter 8 of her ficlets, with some notable changes.





	1. Camouflage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Only_1_Truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tales from Q-branch: A 00Q Ficlet Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062909) by [Only_1_Truth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth). 



Everyone knew shapeshifters were recruited to field work. They were rare, a minority of the population at the best of times, and, of those few, only about half had real control over their shapeshifting. Within MI6 it was widely understood that even a shapeshifter with less than perfect control was still potentially valuable in the field, but the ones who had control? Even under combat conditions? They were a treasure.

Of course, other nations thought so, too.

His school and medical file clearly saying he had no shapeshifting talent, Q planned on ignoring shapeshifters, but life took him to work at MI6–it was not possible to ignore shapeshifters at MI6. Most of the office personnel were not shapeshifters, of course, but a few were–which he found out to his shock when Moneypenny transformed into a speckled boa constrictor. It made sense when he found out she had been a field agent, now retired to a desk.

In his first month on the job Q had been required to sit in on the lecture given to all new MI6 personnel–and suggested even for old hands–about the risks of capture, assassination, and so on. It had been the usual pooling dread in his stomach, while trying to look unconcerned, as lectures about what other nations did to captured agents–especially shapeshifters–droned on… and on…

“Not like we don’t do the same,” muttered one of the people sitting behind him.

Which was a concern, of course. When Q had been growing up there was a lot of quiet discussion about just WHY you didn’t want the government to find out anything–ever. Some of that was the usual discussion among computer folks; some… wasn’t.

 _I’m Q, the Quartermaster of MI6_ , he reminded himself. _I am a valuable resource as it is–they’d be a fool to waste it over something like that._

Because Q was a shapeshifter–a fact he was determined to keep away from MI6 at all costs.


	2. Boop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations in Q branch, and Bond returns...  
> with a nod of the head to R punching OO7 from Only_1_Truth's fic.

Q had officially moved up to the Quartermaster position after the attack on the old MI6 building–as opposed to unofficially holding the position which he’d been doing for a while. It was odd that being Q finally and officially made him both immensely more visible, and paradoxically less so.

He was far more visible–having to attend meetings and deal directly with both administrators and the agents–and far less: he was a jumped up tech geek, the youngest Quartermaster in history, and everyone ‘knew’ that computer nerds weren’t shapeshifters.

They were wrong of course, as there were in fact a handful of notable shifters among the top hackers in the world… but then Q supposed most of the rest of the world didn’t know, or believe, that they were shifters. Still, if the reputation was that the tech world was populated by non-shifters, and the shifters were all jocks? Q and his secret were happy to agree.

Besides, other shapeshifters were terrifying.

Every once in a while he heard about someone who could shape shift into a rabbit or something, but most shapeshifters seemed to be predators–and larger than normal. Danielle, his aide R who had been in the department before him–apparently born there for all anyone acted–was the one that corrected him on that.

“Hmm? Oh, some shifters are bigger than the normal animals, sure… but most aren’t.” R handed him the calibration meter. “Most shape shifters do seem to be predators or omnivores, but there are some herbivores out there. The scary is just the way the Double Ohs are…”

“Double Oh Eight is ridiculously large…” Q muttered as he adjusted the lenses on the laser.

“He’s a big Brown Bear, but… actually he isn’t oversized: he’s not even close to the record holder for Brown Bears.” R said casually, “Besides, of all them Eight is a sweetheart.”

Q pulled back out of the guts of the laser. “You’re kidding?”

“No, really. That size is not at all unusual…”

“He’s a SWEETHEART?!”

“He is!” R insisted. “His nickname is ‘Teddy’, for God’s sake.”

“…I thought that was his name?”

R giggled at him and Q went back to work, grumbling. Eventually, he said, “Double Oh One is enormous…”

“She’s a Harpy Eagle: they’re all huge. Seriously.”

“Double Oh Six was supposed to be a wolf, I believe?” Q snorted, mentally reaching back into the “dead” files. “And he was far bigger than the papers indicate–”

“I met him, actually,” R said sadly. “He was kind of crazy, but a lot friendlier than most of the Double Ohs… Anyway, he was a Russian wolf, right out of the old stories–they’re either extinct or endangered in the wild. You’re comparing him to a North American Timber Wolf.”

“Bugger me,” Q muttered as he got back to work.

“Wait until Double Oh Seven gets back,” R said sagely. “Now, HE’S huge.”

Q closed the housing and looked at her. “Isn’t he dead too?”

“Nope, I won the betting pool–alive and heading back to work.” She frowned, “I’m going to punch him–asshole.”

“I heard Moneypenny shot him for trying to attack her.”

“What?!” R stared at him. “Oh good God, no. He was on a mission and two of them were struggling and Moneypenny had to try to take the other guy out from long range and… Bond got hit.”

Q thought the two stories were not mutually exclusive, but he didn’t want to upset R over it.

…

Bond returned while Q was dealing with a problem elsewhere, and when he got back into Q branch the entire place was full of wide-eyed minions, most of them looking at R like she had suddenly become a shapeshifter–possibly a dinosaur, judging from the awed looks.

“My office, please,” Q asked and R followed, looking smug.

Once the door was closed he just raised an eyebrow.

“I punched him,” Danielle said, sounding entirely pleased with herself.

“Who?”

“James.” At his blank look she said, “Bond? Double Oh Seven?”

“You… Actually PUNCHED a Double Oh?” Q stared at her for a while and then muttered, “I knew you were crazy, but that’s a whole new level.”

“He deserved it–he even admitted it,” she nodded firmly. “Anyway, then I told him I was glad he was back and he’s still an asshole.”

“…Do I get the feeling there’s a history between you two I don’t know?”

She laughed, “Yeah, the assholes in management wanted us to have kids.” She saw the look on Qs face and continued, “I have close relatives who are shifters–it’s likely that if I had kids with a shifter–”

“–your children would be more likely to inherit the trait,” Q continued slowly. “Are–it never occurred to me to ask–are you here voluntarily?”

Her smile softened, “I am… but I can’t say the same for a few of my relatives, exactly. My grandfather was an out of control shifter–he reverted to animal every time, and a violent one. He was on the anti-shifting drugs back… back when they weren’t as safe as they are now.”

Q hesitantly reached out and offered an arm: she leaned into it.

“He died young–the drugs, you know–and as far as I know the government had set him up with grandmother. I never got all the details: he died before I was born.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it sucks.” She started pulling herself together. “Two of my cousins shift–they have more control–one of them is in the Army.”

“…and they wanted you and Bond…? Are… I thought they’d changed the laws and they couldn’t force…” Q hesitated, knowing that the legalities and the realities were two different things.

She rolled her eyes, “Bond will sleep with anyone, although I think some of that is just… habit? He even pulled the ‘Well if we’re going to be paired up, shouldn’t you get a sample?’ line on me!”

Q winced, “Normally I’d say that’s harassment.”

“Nah, he’s just a snake.” She started giggling.

“What’s so funny?”

“He IS a snake! A python, a big one!” She grinned at him. “And I found out when he did pull that line on me that he takes rejection pretty well, which is more than I can say for most guys.”

“So… are you two…?”

“Not on a bet,” she shook her head. “I told him point blank that if I was getting set up to have kids then I wanted someone who would be HOME with me, you know?”

“So what happened?”

“James–Bond–said that was fair. He still flirts but I think its reflex.” She took a breath, “Anyway, apparently he talked to M–don’t let anyone fool you, they’re close–and M got the shapeshifter bureaucrat assholes to back off! I haven’t heard a peep out of them since except for the one card reminding me there is a government run dating service, and I think that’s auto mailed.”

Q was blinking rapidly trying to follow it all. “There’s a… government run what?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know.” She shrugged. “There’s a dating service–it started out as part of the shape shifter registry–basically they try to encourage us to meet other shifter relatives.”

“It… sounds tacky.” _Terrifying_.

“It is,” she nodded. “Besides, if I was going to match up with a Double Oh I would have dated Alec–Six–fucked James just to find out what the fuss was about, and married Teddy… I still might marry Teddy…”

Q raised an eyebrow. “You and… Eight?” It was a peculiar version of “fuck, marry, kill”, he supposed.

“He’s sweet,” she shrugged, “but his line of work doesn’t have a high survival rate, as you know. Anyway, thanks for being cool with it all.”

“I mostly feel… angry that you all have to put up with it,” Q said slowly, doubling his resolve to never let anyone find out about him.

She nodded, “At least the anti-shifter drugs are better. Of course the down side of that…”

“I know we use them if a shapeshifter is imprisoned… apparently you know far more than I do.”

“As a close relative, who works in this branch? Between what I get told outright and what I dig up… yeah–you were never very curious about them.”

“I never had any reason to be,” he lied, “until I started working here and… as you say the Double Ohs are… scary.”

“You get used to them,” she shrugged, “although I admit having the genes might make it easier for me.”

“If… if anyone tries to give you a hard time–or set you up against your will–I hope you know I will back you up,” Q said, doing his best to sound authoritative and not worried.

“That’s sweet, but as long as M is around? No one pushes her people around but her, you know?”

…

After she went out, he watched the video.

Bond moved like a predator, with smoothness to his steps that seemed at odds with his evident injuries–he wasn’t fully recovered, obviously.

Danielle walked up to him and he smiled–his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, Q noted–and she scolded him, looking remarkably like a small dog barking at a much larger one .

Even Q could see the punch coming, so it should have been obvious to Bond–he just rocked back on his heels slightly. He brought a hand up and worked his jaw oddly and then shrugged.

Q had managed to find the right microphone pick up recording by then.

“I deserve it,” Bond allowed– _and GOD the man’s voice was attractive._ Q cursed himself: he had to admit he’d always been attracted to voices.

“You DO! Not even a postcard to me?”

He smiled crookedly, “And let everyone know about us?” He lowered his head in a peculiar fashion and she brought her hand up and tapped him on the nose.

“Asshole. I’m glad you’re back–also, I won the betting pool.”

“I get fifty percent,” he said calmly and went on his way.


	3. After The Sky Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quartermasters are ill at ease with a 007 in their home... even if invited... and even if not for the usual reasons

Q watched Bond at the funeral. M’s funeral– _Olivia Mansfield; who knew she actually had a name?_ –was attended by quite a number of people from MI6, of course, but Bond was the only one who had been with her as she died.

He looked… lost.

Q found himself walking over to shelter him with his umbrella–he really couldn’t have said why. “Do… do you have a place to stay, Mister Bond?”

Bond looked at him and then looked around in confusion; it would have been comical if he didn’t look so sincerely puzzled. “Oh… you mean me…” Bond flashed that oddly endearing smile at him briefly, “No one ever calls me that except supervillains.”

“Well…” Q tried for a bit of levity, “I suppose I could be a supervillain.”

“I’m fairly certain you need a lair,” Bond rumbled in that voice that Q could listen to for hours. “You know… pit of sharks or something?”

“All I have to offer is a mortgage on a rather ordinary house and two cats,” Q said sadly. “The supervillain union wouldn’t let me in.”

Bond laughed briefly, “Thank you, Q, I needed that.”

“So DO you have a place to stay?” Q hesitated. “And… uh… what should I call you then?”

“You usually just snap my last name or my code number,” Bond said with what sounded like tired amusement. “And it’s James, I suppose… hardly anyone speaks to me outside of work that knows my actual name.”

“Same, actually.”

“Your name is James, too?” Bond teased.

“Wanker,” Q snorted. “I mean hardly anyone talks to me outside of work that knows who I am–actually I hardly talk to anyone outside of work at all.”

“Hard to picture.” Bond raised an eyebrow. “You have a good relationship with everyone at the office; I thought you’d be more sociable.”

“On the rare occasions I get out these days,” Q sighed, “I frequent clubs where the volume discourages talking.”

“Hmm…” Bond sighed. “As it happens no, I don’t have a flat yet… and… I’m not at all certain how the…” he winced as he said it, “new M will handle things, so…”

“I don’t understand?”

“The new M… he… he hasn’t worked with…” Bond’s voice hesitated and paused in ways Q wasn’t used to hearing.

“Shapeshifters?” Q shrugged. “He’ll get used to it–I did.”

Bond looked relieved, and then slowly admitted, “If you’re serious, I could use a place to stay for a day or two. I would ask Danielle, but she has a boyfriend now and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Bond started to explain that he and R were just friends when Q asked, “Is she finally dating Teddy now?”

Bond choked, “Teddy?!”

“Teddy.” Q smiled faintly. “That’s what I’d heard her call Double Oh Eight so often that I had no idea his name wasn’t Theodore.”

“Theodore Edward Bear?!” Bond said incredulously as Q guided him toward the car park.

“His parents might have…” Q said defensively.

Bond held up a hand, “No, no more until we’re someplace I can fall over laughing in peace. Where’s your car?”

“I came by cab, I don’t have a car–I get my vicarious car ownership at MI6.”

“Well, I still have a car, anyway.” Bond sighed and steered them both over to his expectedly flashy sports car.

…

“I’m afraid it’s not… probably not up to your usual standards,” Q said quietly as he let them through the security. "I'll need to get your biometrics entered into the system so you can come and go.”

Bond was staring incredulously at the door as Q closed it behind them. “Is the security that good at the office?”

“I don’t think so,” Q sighed, “but I don’t have to file paperwork for every single thing I do to my own home. That’s Alan, by the way…”

“Pardon?” Bond frowned at him.

“The cat,” Q nodded and Bond followed his gaze over to find a cat staring at him from the top of a cabinet. “Watch him; he likes to jump down from high places onto people.”

“Paratrooper, I see,” Bond nodded.

Q smiled, “Well… he’s in training to be a Double Oh: he breaks things.”

Bond smiled back, but it looked tired. “Always a good start. Does he aggravate Quartermasters?”

“Almost as much as some of you lot,” Q answered with a fond smile. “Tea?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Bond sat down on the sofa.

When Q came back with the tea, Alan was sniffing Bond cautiously from the back of the sofa while Bond pretended to ignore him.

“From Alan, that’s approval.” Q put down the tea and settled into the chair.

“Glad to hear it,” Bond nodded. “Thank you again for taking me in…” He cleared his throat. “Kind of you, if unexpected.”

“Yes... well… we… didn’t exactly get off on a good foot the first time we met, did we?”

“I was…” Bond sighed. “I was angry at most of the world, I suppose–feeling every year of my age and then some–and then there you were, making me feel that much older.”

“I’d been rather intimidated by you, you know.” Q looked off past the agent.

“You?” Bond shook his head, “No, I had no idea.”

“I hadn’t BEEN the Quartermaster that long, after all–even if I had been doing the job without the title for a bit.” Q offered him a biscuit which he took out of politeness.

“Honestly, I was just touchy about someone young ordering me about,” Bond rumbled–his Scottish accent having been stronger since his trip to Skyfall.

“…And I was a bit touchy about ordering any of the Double Oh’s about, but especially you.” Q sighed. “I was still getting used… to everything, really.”

“I… You worked out surprisingly well…” Bond allowed a smirk to flicker across his face, “for a kid with spots.”

Q stared at him. “But I let Silva–”

Bond put a hand out and touched Q’s arm briefly, “You were overconfident, yes… but you were also up against someone who knew our defenses and protocols. Just… learn from it.”

“I… rather thought you would blame me,” Q admitted.

“Maybe I’ll get around to it when I stop blaming myself.” Bond closed his eyes and tried to put his head back on the sofa, only to have Alan begin grooming his head.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, even Alan agrees.” Q thought for a moment and continued, “Now I admit I made the offer spontaneously and… well… I may need to spend a few minutes turning my guest room back into a guest room.”

“I can sleep on the couch if Alan will stop trying to sandpaper off my eyebrows.”

“Ah, no… Alan objects to eyebrows–and hunts bed mice. That’s why I don’t let him sleep in the bedroom with me.”

“Bed mice?”

“Toes… under sheets.”

“Oh... well, yes, then I think a bedroom with a door would be a good idea… which… reminds me: like most agents I wake up fast and often with a weapon… if you need to wake me up do it from the door.”

Q blinked a few times. “Good to know. I mostly mumble ‘five more minutes’, or ‘I’ll get the can opener’, but it’s rarely been tested with another human.” He tilted his head and looked curious, “May I ask you… it may be… errr… this may be appallingly personal, I have no idea.”

“My normal answer to that would be to tell you my sexual preferences and flirt, but I doubt that’s what you’re asking,” Bond said casually while still laying with his head back and vaguely trying to fend off Alan.

The sudden silence caused Bond to open his eyes–after pulling Alan into his lap–only to see the normally unflappable Quartermaster having turned a remarkable shade of red.

“Well… that’s novel,” Bond said after a pause. “You normally ignore me or snark back at me.”

“I… uh…” Q struggled to recover his aplomb, “I think it’s a bit more awkward in person… and in my house.”

“Apologies,” Bond said, not sounding sorry at all. “What did you want to ask me?”

“If... uh… well I actually only saw you change the one time–didn’t exactly see it, but you know what I mean–but I’d heard that… well, some shifters change in their sleep… I… never mind.”

Bond stared at him a moment and then laughed faintly, “Your cats are quite safe, Quartermaster. Not only do I not shift when I sleep–unless I’ve been drugged–but I retain most of my wits.”

“I was… it was rude to ask…” Q was tidying up the tea rather suddenly. “I’ll go clean up the–”

Bond snagged his wrist. “It’s quite alright–really. It’s very kind of you to put me up, and… given that you apparently don’t have much experience with shapeshifters… it’s a perfectly good question.”

“It… thank you for taking it so well, I… I don’t have… I rarely have company at all, and…” Q felt rather abruptly tongue tied. “Right, I’ll go clean out the guest room.”

The guest room turned out to be in a bit more disarray than he remembered. He finally decided that a Double Oh would probably be forgiving of the electronics scattered about as long as they weren’t actually ON the bed.

When he came back out, however, he found that Bond had fallen asleep on the sofa, and by some miracle Alan was not taking advantage of it to sandpaper off his eyebrows. After consideration, Q decided that Bond’s shoes likely made good enough armor, dropped a blanket over the man, and went to bed.

…

Sometime later, a pair of luminous green eyes opened in the darkness and began trying to figure out how to open the door.


	4. Scritches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the things you don't know about a person...

Bond woke up from a strange dream about Eve Moneypenny trying to shave his eyebrows, to find Q’s cat, Alan, determinedly trying to groom them off.

“Ah? Fell asleep on the couch?” Bond sat up. “And I slept through someone putting a blanket on me?” He looked at the cat. “I’m well overdue to retire, then.”

He scratched Alan behind the ear and got up to go to the guest room. At least he hadn’t had his shoes taken off. _If I’d slept through THAT…._

There was a scratching sound from the closed door at the end of the hall. Bond crept closer out of habit…

_Scratch, scratch…_

_Oh… right. Q had two cats._ Bond turned the handle carefully and pushed the door open just a bit; a dark streak shot past him close to ankle height.

_So Alan was the friendly one and… spooky there was the shy one._

Bond had closed the door to the guest room–locking out Alan–and had stripped down to his briefs when an insistent scratching noise at the door stopped him. He opened the door, expecting Alan, and a small dark cat–patterned in swirls of black on a dark brown–walked in as though it belonged there.

“…well I guess you do, I’m the interloper after all,” Bond said, looking at the little cat as it hopped lightly up on the bed and sat staring at him with huge green eyes.

“Do you hunt toes? No, probably not or Q wouldn’t have left you in his room.”

The cat’s ears swiveled at “Q” and it stretched out its head and neck–without moving its feet one bit–to try to sniff him.

“Lucky for you I like cats,” Bond said quietly, reaching a finger out to let the cat sniff him, “although I think your human already figured that out.”

The little cat finally decided that Bond was acceptable and presented its neck. Bond sat down on the bed and smiled. “Well, you’re not that Spooky; maybe I should call you Shadow? Although I think that’s normally for all black cats…”

The cat was determinedly pushing into Bond’s hand and finally climbed up, settling itself firmly against his chest–quite confident that Bond would both hold him up and keep petting him.

“Small and determined,” Bond said quietly, “like your human… except your human doesn’t let me pet him.” Bond sighed and lay down. “Well, not like that would be a good idea–technically he’s my superior officer.” The cat balanced for a moment and then curled up on Bond’s stomach.

“I have no idea why he let me stay…” Bond smiled at the feel of fur under his fingertips, “but I suppose he takes in strays. Wonder how he feels about snakes, hmm? He seemed a bit concerned that I might try to eat you, which would be fair if I reverted to feral, I suppose…”

Bond was still petting and talking to the cat when he fell asleep.

~

Q came to his senses as he usually did after shifting in his sleep–slowly and with the cat perspective coloring the human one.

_There was a strange human, but he was alright, and he had nice fingers–good scritches._

“–except your human doesn’t let me pet him,” the human said. _Silly… who didn’t like to be petted?_ The human lay down, but was careful to keep him balanced. Q made himself comfortable on the big, warm, flat tummy and settled his head so the human could keep petting.

“I have no idea why he let me stay, but I suppose he takes in strays. Wonder how he feels about snakes, hmm?” _snakes? Oh… yes… this human was a snake…_ “He seemed a bit concerned that I might try to eat you, which would be fair if I reverted to feral, I suppose…”

_Blink._

_Blink._

_Oh dear God, I am lying on Double Oh Seven!_

“I bet his hair isn’t quite as soft as yours, but I always wanted to find out...” Bond was saying and his voice rumbled in his chest under Q’s head. _What?_

Hands that could snap a human’s neck were gently petting Q into somnolence. “It must be hard on him, being so young…”

 _I’m not that Young!_ Q started to get up.

“Easy there, Q cat…” Bond rubbed gently behind his ears and Q settled down.

 _Q cat? What a silly name…_ Q sighed as he looked down at his “bed” which was the rather incredibly solid physique that he’d admired through the surveillance cameras _._

“I hope Danielle settles down with Eight, I really do,” Bond was saying as Q’s eyes slowly closed, “but I admit I’ll miss her–can’t blame Francis if he wants to keep her away from me.” He stroked under Q’s chin and whispered, “I have a reputation, you know.”

_…and really nice hands…_

“She’s just a friend–well, no ‘just’ about it… not many friends in this business...”

Q found himself dozing off to a warm bed, a gentle touch, and the soothing rumble of James’ voice.

~

Bond woke up to find the cat hadn’t left, merely relocated itself slightly further up onto his chest–which was going to make getting to the bathroom a bit awkward. He sat up slowly, trying to bring his arms around to support the cat, and the cat took that as its cue to stretch… paws splayed out and little pinprick claws…

The cat abruptly tumbled off of his chest and rolled over on the bed, staring at Bond comically upside down.

“Good morning,” Bond said, smiling down at the little cat all upside down and paws waving rather awkwardly. He reached out and the cat righted itself with a flailing flip and shot out the door.

Bond chuckled and went to wash up.

~

Q dove into his bedroom. _Oh my God, ooooh my God… I was SLEEPING on Double Oh Seven? I haven’t shifted in my sleep in… okay, it has been more frequent lately because of stress, but…_

 _Bond rumbles nicely,_ Q found himself thinking as he groomed a leg, _and he scritches well…_

 _STOP THAT…_ Q scolded himself firmly and forced himself to change back. He hurriedly pulled on his discarded pajamas–with a vague memory of having a fight with his pajama leg and losing–and darted past the sound of the shower to the kitchen.

“Tea. Tea solves everything.” Q started setting on the kettle and looked over at Alan, sleeping on the sofa. “If you’d just not tried to take his eyebrows off I bet he would have stayed on the sofa!”

Alan ignored him regally.

Q was trying to put together a breakfast while simultaneously remembering images of Bond, the rumbling cadence of his voice, and those hands…

 _Who knew he could be gentle?_ Q shivered a bit. _That was a VERY bad line of thinking._

“I met your other cat.” Bond’s voice right behind Q caused him to startle badly.

Q turned and gave Bond a firm look. “I will ask you not to sneak up behind me while I am handling hot, sharp, or delicate things… which is to say, ever.”

Bond’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smirk. “Alan did indeed try to take my eyebrows off–”

Q turned back to breakfast preparation. “I did try to warn you, but I hesitated to wake you. I once again find myself woefully underprepared for guests, Bond.”

“James, please.”

“When my adrenaline comes down from you sneaking up behind me and my body isn’t convinced I must be handling a mission, I will consider it. In any event, I am underprepared for guests, so breakfast is going to be a bit less than ideal.”

“You made tea, that’s a start.” Bond put his hands on Q and carefully moved him to the table. “Why don’t you sit down and wake up–and get that unexpected adrenaline out of your system–and let me cook?”

“…you can cook?!”

“A deeply guarded secret,” Bond agreed. “You don’t think I seduced all those women with my charm and good dress sense do you? Sometimes I cooked.”

“I rather thought it was your voice, actually,” Q muttered.

There was a rattling as Bond abruptly changed his grip on a saucepan. “…pardon?”

“You have an excellent voice, and an attractive accent,” Q admitted grumpily, “and I don’t think we should discuss this until after I eat.”

Bond turned back to finding out what Q had in his house–not much–while he thought about that little unexpected tidbit.

…

Q had finished his second cup of tea and was beginning to feel a touch more sociable when a plate of what looked suspiciously like crepes was put down in front of him.

“Those are crepes.”

“Yes,” Bond said sitting down–after removing a curious Alan from the chair–with his own plate of crepes. “You didn’t actually have a lot of eggs left and crepes seemed the best way to make everything suit two…” Bond paused. “I didn’t let the batter rest, which is why they tore a bit, but I thought speed was more important than appearance.”

“These are crepes!” Q repeated, staring at his plate. “I had ingredients for crepes?!”

Bond laughed, “Yes, they are, and yes you did. Now please eat them? I did assume you could eat all the ingredients since you had them in your house.”

Q was staring at the crepes with a boggled, wide-eyed look that made Bond’s heart ache–in a good way. It was nice to see someone stunned over something good for a change. He slowly put the first forkful into his mouth and then…

“Q…” Bond finally managed to say after he sipped enough tea to moisten his suddenly dry mouth, “ if you make THOSE noises over crepes, I think I need to feed you more.” _…or something. Damn, my pants felt tight._

Q flushed rather suddenly and shut up.

“No, no, by all means!” Bond waved a fork at him. “I’m glad you enjoy it… I just… think you may have been deprived as a child.”

Q flinched slightly. “Actually, yes.” He couldn’t quite help the moan of delight as he finished the first of the two crepes, though.

“Yes?” Bond asked. “Yes, you enjoy it?”

“…yes, I was rather deprived as a child,” Q admitted quietly as he dug into the second crepe.

Bond closed his mouth quickly. They ate quietly until Q finished the plate before Bond continued, “Well, in that case… may I offer to buy some groceries and make a few decent meals as a thank you for your putting me up?”

Q raised an eyebrow. “I should make you iron chef it and work with what’s on hand–at least, based on these results…”

“I always work with what’s on hand,” Bond chuckled.

Q raised an eyebrow. “Only because you destroy the equipment we send you with.”

“In fairness, the enemy destroys most of it,” Bond shrugged. “Shall I drive you in to work?”

Q blinked several times and looked over at the clock. “Oh, shit… errr… I am very much afraid you might have to–bit late to take the tube in.”

Bond frowned at that, but Q had already run off to get dressed.

Bond cleaned up the dishes and made note of the–few–available ingredients Q had on hand until he came back.

“Didn’t take you long,” Bond nodded, “and now I know why you dress like that–just throw it on.”

Q snorted, “If I ‘just threw it on’, I assure you it wouldn’t look this good. Let’s get going. And I’ll STILL need to add you to the biometrics, damn.”

As they were driving in, Bond finally remembered to ask, “Oh, I met your other cat–pretty little thing–what’s his name?”

Q colored slightly, “Merlin.”

Bond smiled, “Prone to vanishing?”

“What?”

“I was wondering about naming him Merlin and I thought he might do a vanishing act.”

“Ah… errr… no. It’s… a bit of an in-joke…” Q tried to remind himself that he’d rehearsed this a million times in his head. “Alan is named after Alan Turing… Merlin is a sort of humorous nod to my job and to a favorite movie of mine.”

“A movie makes sense,” Bond said as he effortlessly guided his car through the traffic, “but how does it relate to your job?”

“He’s a computer wizard.”

Bond thought it was a bit of a stretch but he shrugged. It wasn’t until they were getting out of the car in secured parking that he asked, “What favorite movie?”

“Labyrinth.”

“I haven’t seen it.”

Q stared at him. “In the remote possibility that I leave work on time, Double Oh Seven, we will watch it this evening! That’s not even slightly tolerable–it’s a classic.”

“Well, I’ll stop by over lunch and get a list of food preferences from you for dinner.” Bond nodded, “And I’ll take a run to the market on route back to your house.”

Q walked into Q branch shaking his head. “Status?” he called out by reflex only to look up at a room full of minions all either looking at him intently, or very carefully NOT looking at him.

“What on earth?”

R waved at a looped video of Bond and Q arriving in Bond’s car. “There are bets,” she said casually.

Q brought a hand up over his eyes. “Can any of you get your minds out of the gutter long enough to remember that Double Oh Seven doesn’t have a flat to stay in? I thought he might need a place to stay for after the funeral, and I was right. Now shall we get back to work?”

He saw Danielle collecting money and tried to ignore it. _Bets!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crepes, while a bit of an acquired and practiced skill, will indeed stretch two eggs out into a rather rich meal for two people, and can be made sweet or savory. it is BEST if the batter can rest for an hour in the fridge, so it doesn't tear as easily when wrapping around a filling...


	5. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dinner and difficult conversations.  
> (fair warning my Beta reader and proofer has been sick , so this is un proofed... and it has been proofed and updated!)

Bond stopped by at lunch and reignited the speculation in Q branch by bringing Q a cup of tea and a sandwich. “Based on the state of your cupboards, I did think you might forget to eat.”

“Oh… uh… is it lunch already?”

“It’s nearly tea time, actually,” Bond said politely. “Do you have that list I asked for?”

“List….” Q was trying desperately to remember what list, for which mission, when he suddenly remembered the grocery shopping. “Ah, no. We’ve been rather busy.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Bond’s voice was smooth and unconcerned. “Anything I shouldn’t get?”

Q scribbled down a quick list and said, “Anything other than that I can at least tolerate.”

Bond simply nodded and left.

Hours later, when Q was finally ready to leave, R cornered him in his office.

“Hey… I know this may be personal, but–”

“I’m not dating him–he just didn’t have any place to stay.”

“He’s not staying with me because of Teddy,” R sighed. “I’ve talked to him–my boyfriend, I mean–and… yeah, he has a hard time picturing a woman being ‘just friends’ with Bond.”

“He does have a reputation,” Q agreed, “but as he said, you could hardly be called ‘just’ friends–he doesn’t have many.” Too late, Q remembered that Bond had told that to Merlin, not him. _Oh well._

R smiled, “That’s… what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Q raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Go on…”

“Look, I know everyone thinks James–Bond–is… Well, like you said he doesn’t actually have many friends.” She sighed. “Remember I told you he and M were close?”

“I remember,” Q nodded. “I think that’s why I was noticing him at the funeral.”

“Yeah, well… as far as I can tell he’s one of those people who doesn’t TALK to anyone, you know? All closed off… He… kind of, sort of, talked to me–and I’m trying to get Francis to calm down about him, but he’s convinced Bond is some kind of super seducer…”

“Isn’t he? He does have that reputation.”

R just snorted. “James seduces people because it’s a tool–like most of the Double Ohs–he’s just really good at it.”

Q muttered, “That voice, certainly.”

“What’s that?” Danielle suddenly got very attentive.

“He has JUST enough of a Scottish accent to be attractive, without being hard to understand,” Q admitted. “And his voice is in a nice pitch: carries well over the communication links without being too sharp in person.”

R blinked at him, “I had no idea you had a thing for voices.”

Q sat back and sighed, “Yeah, I do, and I slipped up and admitted it to him over breakfast. It’s not my fault–who knew the man could cook?”

The dead silence caused him to slowly lift his head and look: R was sitting staring at him with her mouth open.

“What?!”

“He… cooked for you?”

“Yes? Who knew I had ingredients for crepes?! They were fantastic…”

“He cooked CREPES for you?!”

“Am I missing something?”

“It took him MONTHS before he cooked for me!”

“You probably had food in your kitchen,” Q admitted unhappily. “I didn’t actually have much set up for guests–I invited him over rather unexpectedly.”

“Honey… you are gay, right?”

“Obviously?”

“Grab that man,” R nodded firmly. “I know he’s kind of prickly and all but he’s a good loyal friend… and honestly you could use someone to feed you–I should have known when he came over with lunch.”

“Danielle, I know that matchmaking is a sport around MI6, but… you have lost your mind.”

“What? You don’t fancy him?” R frowned. “That’s my friend you’re talking about! What’s wrong with him?”

“Oh, for… He isn’t gay!”

“So?”

“So what makes you think he’s interested in ME? Besides, the man destroys technology and probably lives in a cave without Wi-Fi. What on earth would he see in me?”

“Another friend,” Danielle said firmly. “Someone he can actually tell where he works. Also, you’re cute if your tastes run that way.”

“I’ll grant you the security concerns and the friends, but…”

She just nodded firmly, “I’m telling you, Q, you need to up your game–find out what he’s interested in and show an interest! Appreciating his food is a good start, though.”

“You sound like a magazine: ‘How to find a boyfriend’,” Q huffed at her.

“You got one already?” She looked pointedly at him, knowing the answer.

“No. I am a gay bachelor with cats and an active online life.”

“Double Oh boyfriend–just sayin’.”

Q packed up to leave work, and tried to ignore R setting up a new round of bets.

 

Bond stopped at a grocery store in a rather out of the way part of town. They apparently had bags of groceries waiting for him.

“That’s… rather a lot?” Q asked hesitantly.

“You didn’t have much of the basics,” Bond shrugged. “The least I can do is make sure I leave you with a stocked cupboard.”

“First time for everything, I suppose–but don’t feel you need to leave until you have a place.”

“More likely a mission. With Eight talking about retiring… I don’t expect I’ll have down time for long.”

“He is? Oh… settling down with Danielle…” Q nodded. “Be a pity to lose him, but I do understand. Will… will Mallory cause much of a fuss, do you think? A Double Oh retiring from active duty during a… well, rather difficult time?”

Bond paused before answering. “Danielle is in high demand,” he finally said quietly. “M and I put a lot of pressure in on her behalf… but if she’s finally willing to have children with a shifter, well… Mallory won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“I… she … she told me you and she… errr… that she’d said she wanted a husband who would be home… that you’d intervened… but I thought that was pressure in MI6?”

“What? Oh… Oh, well, if Danielle had children by an MI6 operative it would certainly have given M a bit more leverage: she does… did… run the most critical arm of the government using shifters. The tradeoff of having R stay in MI6 versus potentially losing a Double Oh… It was a bit of a balancing act with the committee.”

“Which committee?”

“Right… I keep forgetting how new you are. Can it wait until we get the groceries in?”

Once they got in, Bond asked him very casually, “Do you sweep your own house for bugs often?”

“Not… often, no.” Q felt the blood rushing out of his face as he thought about someone seeing him shift.

“Always better to be safe,” Bond commented idly and started unloading groceries. Q immediately set about checking everything for bugs and signal taps. By the time he was done–Q was taking no chances–Bond was putting a rather interesting smelling dish down on the table.

“If someone got any kind of a bug or data tap in here,” Q said firmly, “we should hire them immediately. I can’t swear for any transmissions OUT, but I even checked my cell phones again–where is your cell, by the way?”

“I don’t have one,” Bond answered calmly as he poured wine.

“We have… you bought wine?”

“To go with a decent dinner? Yes.” Bond sat down and gestured for Q to sit down.

“I should have known you don’t have a cell phone from the sheer hatred you have for your equipment,” Q sighed.

Bond chuckled, “I don’t hate your equipment–although I have some issues with the equipment I get as opposed to the equipment I would like to get–“

“Still not making exploding pens.”

“I don’t have a cell phone because it’s traceable–and too easily tapped.”

“Well mine are not tapped–software or hardware–although as I said, if you are TRANSMITTING I can’t guarantee it won’t be intercepted outside of the house.”

“Good. I’m afraid I… talked a bit to your cats without thinking. I just assumed it was secure.” Bond added quietly, “Which I never do…”

“It is. I hadn’t checked in too long though, so better to check again.” Q took a forkful of… whatever this was and bit into it… _Mmmmmmm…_

Bond looked utterly smug, “Like it?”

Q refused to say anything, as it might require him to stop savoring. He only reluctantly took a sip of the wine, and then found that it did, indeed, go with the dish perfectly.

Only after he had finished off the plate did he sigh and look up, “That was utterly delicious–and I seriously had no idea you cooked.”

“Above your security clearance,” Bond said casually, and with apparent perfect sincerity.

“You were saying something in the car, but I’m afraid my mind was entirely taken up with dinner.”

“You don’t know much about shifters and the government, do you?”

Q considered how to answer. “Perhaps I don’t know ENOUGH, but I do know more than most. I know that the laws have been changed–for the most part–and in theory you are subject to only a few more restrictions than non-shifters, but I know far too well that we don’t live in theory.”

Bond nodded, “Then to be brief: there is a committee–most shifters just call it THE committee–that handles shapeshifter policy. M, as the head of the largest group of… well, armed and dangerous shifters… is part of that committee.”

“… and that is the group that tried to set you up with Danielle?”

“Yes.”

“And since M was part of it she could tell them no?”

Bond shook his head, “M could tell them ‘not yet’ or ‘not with me’. Did R tell you about her relatives?”

“Yes, grandfather a drugged shifter and two cousins who shift–one military.”

Bond sat back with a sigh, “Her grandfather went feral when he shifted–violently.”

Q nodded, “I know that happens, some variety of that is common…”

“Her two cousins don’t. One cousin has enough control to be Special Forces; the other… well, he goes feral under combat stress, so less useful, but… the family has consistently had one type of shifter. The committee would kill to get reliable, repeatable shapeshifters instead of the random mess it usually is.”

Q blinked a lot, “Her family are snakes?”

Bond looked startled, “What? No…”

“Oh, I would expect they would want to match her with the same animal type–or similar. She never did say what her cousins were…”

“Badgers.”

Q frowned, going over the speculative inheritance studies, “Then you would be an awful choice! You’re not even mammalian! If they are trying to keep the uniform animal type then Teddy–Francis?–is much better because at least he’s a mammal. It would be best if they found a badger, of course, but…” Q trailed off. “Oh, sorry… I... tend to problem solve by reflex.”

Bond was snickering. “Not the response I expected, I admit.” He shook his head and started clearing plates. “They were hoping to cross me into the mix because I stay coherent and controlled even under bad situations for a shifter; it’s why they keep trying with me.”

Q heard a bitter edge to that. “Legally of course you would have options, but I suppose in reality not so much?”

“My options–such as they were–vanished when I became military,” Bond said quietly putting down two bowls of…

“Is that sorbet?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’m going to need a workout regimen if you keep this up.”

“You need a workout regimen in any case, as well as self-defense training,” Bond said looking him over measuringly. “In any event… my working for MI6 just made it worse in many ways, but M could run interference for some things. God only knows what it will be like with Mallory.”

“So he can’t keep Eight from retiring, because… the committee wants Danielle to…?”

“Have kids, lots of them.” He grinned very sharply, “She’s female, and she isn’t military, and she’s not in the MI6 branches that can easily get pushed around–technical department folks are rather different than combat and field agents–so they have more trouble pressuring her.”

“I see…” Q nodded slowly. “But they… pressure… you?”

“I probably have dozens of children that I will never meet,” Bond said very casually. “Sperm samples tend to be a bit easier than eggs, and add to that the number of women that I’ve been set up with? It’s beginning to be worrisome when I meet anyone under twenty–might be a relative.”

Q shuddered, “That is utterly horrid. People shouldn’t be… show dogs.”

Bond was incredibly relieved to hear that. “It’s better than it was.”

“I… I know,” Q admitted. “When I was very young… one of the neighbors turned out to be a shifter–they vanished after. A handful of people swear they saw government cars…”

“Oh?” Bond looked thoughtful. “Could have been any number of things–they used to have a policy of trumping up charges to leverage shifters into service…”

“He turned out to have run away from some government program–after I got good enough at computers, I looked it up.” Q was fidgeting with his buttons, his napkin.

 _It made sense that he would._ Bond tried to keep his voice level, “It must have been a big event in your life. What happened to him?”

“He died. The official report just said accidental death in custody, but… based on the crumbs I found in the system, I think he died of a reaction to the suppressants.”

Bond flinched, “Rare these days, but it still can happen. Did you know him well?”

“No,” Q shook his head, “but the paranoia it caused… my family was… well, let’s just say involved in some questionable things, and having one of the neighbors vanish from a government kidnapping? I ended up living my youthful life on the run.” He blinked and looked up at Bond, “I actually have no idea why I’m telling you this.”

“Because you know I won’t tell anyone else?”

“Probably,” Q smiled tiredly. “I think I’ll have to take a rain check on that movie, if you don’t mind–based on the way I’m babbling I suspect an early bedtime would do me well.”

“Likewise.”

“Thank you for the dinner… James.”

“You’re quite welcome… and… Do you know I still don’t know what to call you except Q?”

Q blinked, “Oh… well, the name on my MI6 paperwork is David.”

Bond considered a youthful life on the run and grinned like a shark, “I have a few fake IDs too, but I expect yours are better.”

Q smiled and it was a bit shy, and a bit sly, and Bond found himself fascinated. “Mine are perfect… and… if you want to call me something out of the office? I prefer Ambrose to David, but Q… I’m used to Q.”

Bond nodded, “I’ll manage the dishes–I find it relaxing. Have a good night, Q.”

“Good night, James.” And Q slipped quietly out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first of all, my husband has been very ill, so since he is both my primary concern AND my proof reader, i know things have been rough. my apologies. any typos and etc are entirely my own fault.
> 
> Scritches and smart blood

Bond finished up the dishes and went to the guest room for bed… only to find Merlin curled up on his pillows.

“There you are… I was wondering.”

Merlin looked up with those stunningly green eyes and made a quiet noise; he then went through an elaborate stretching routine.

“You’re quite right, it’s important to stretch.” Bond chuckled, “which does remind me that I didn’t get all of my work out in at Six today.”

“Meep” merlin managed to make a tiny squeak and a waved paw seem imperious.

Bond set about catching up on the exercises he could do before bed–pushups with a cat balanced on your shoulder blades was novel.

“So are you staying?” Bond asked the little cat once he was getting ready for bed.

Merlin showed no signs of leaving so Bond started scratching him behind the ears and down his back: the little cat arched up into it in evident enjoyment.

“Don’t you get enough scritches?” Bond teased, “Let me guess, Q completely ignores you, right?”

Prrrrrr….

Bond lay back with Merlin curled up against his chest. “I’m going to have to get going soon;” Bond said sadly, “M left me a few puzzles to figure out.  Some things that didn’t add up…”

He spoke quietly to the dozing cat until he, too, fell asleep.

The next day he spoke to the Quartermaster about heading off, and much to his surprise Q mostly sighed and asked him if he was actually well enough? Or did he need a few days more rest.

Which is how he found himself fully equipped with a probably quite illicit communication link, gun, and…exploding watch.

“I said we don’t go in for exploding pens, I never said a word about wristwatches.” Q said rather defensively.

“No complaints from me!” Bond said immediately.

“TRY to return the equipment this time? It’s not even expensed…”

Bond winced, “I will try, honestly, and… thank you.”

Q gave him that odd frown that didn’t look angry so much as vaguely worried and unhappy.  “Hold on.”  He went away and came back with a rather odd looking set of equipment.

“I need you to pretend you pay attention during briefings.” Q said very seriously.

“I do”

“Don’t lie to me Bond.”

“I often do.” Bond amended.

“This is what I was working on before M passed away… and it’s… almost ready for deployment.  If you want, you can be the first real field test.”

“That could be very good or very bad, what is it?”

“Smart Blood.”

Bond tried to figure it out and finally gave up, “and that’s what exactly?”

“Nanites that get injected into the blood stream.  It’s an active life signs monitor and tracker.”

Bond backed away from him, “sounds horrid!”

“It can’t be cut out of you, taken from you–unless they have my notes, and those are in my head– and it will not be affected by shifting.”

“I’ve changed my mind: it sounds like a nightmare.”

“Right now I’m the only one who can track it or monitor it… it would enable me to read your life signs in the field… probably.”

“Probably.” Bond snorted. “and probably do what? Turn me into a Borg?”

Q’s mouth dropped open, “You DO watch television!”

“Long layovers and boring hotels” Bond  said firmly. “In any event why would anyone want that?”

“How many times have you been unable to get backup because we couldn’t find you?”

“How many times have I been caught because of a tracer?!”

“No one knows it’s ready.” Q shook his head.

“And you want me to be the first one to test it? What if it goes wrong?”

“You would be the first FIELD test, Bond… away from London.” Q said patiently. “it’s been tested.”

“On shapeshifters?”

“One.  A volunteer who had been testing it through multiple shifts over time.” Q stared at the vial in his hand. “No malfunctions so far, although each shift reduced the number of nanites in the blood… in their case the smart blood  became less reliable after four shifts, stopped transmitting after six shifts, and was undetectable even to my best blood tests after eight.”

“Oh…” Bond was looking dubiously at that same vial, _but Q… seemed to think it was safe_.

“The volunteer was mammalian in shift, but most of the shifters are.  I… suppose asking a non-mammalian shifter to be the first field test is doing it a bit backwards…”

“No one else can track this, you said?”

“No.  Especially since no one knows it’s ready.  Even if someone had managed to get at every single one of my notes, they would have to first anticipate it would be in use, and then know what signal to scan for.  The range is terrible, by the way–I use both our communication equipment and some other electronics as a sort of relay.  Within London I can get the track exactly, but… I admit out in remote areas without electronics it would be less useful.”

Q looked up at him, “It would be better than nothing, however, and even in a worst case scenario…”

“Identifying the body, I suppose, would be a point.” Bond said it calmly.

“I… dislike thinking about losing any agent.”

“How was your volunteer after the nanites were undetectable?”

“Fine.  They’ve been under a great deal of personal stress lately, with more frequent shifts, so … I was planning on a second test run, but it had been put off… its why I have the equipment here at home.” Q shut his mouth, realizing he’d said too much.

“So… not even MI6 knows you’ve done the live testing?”

“…no.”

Bond smirked, “So it’s VERY unlikely anyone but you would be looking.”

“No one but myself–at MI6– knows I have progressed to live testing.  I have made no notes on any agency accessible computers… nothing.  Not even R knows.”

Bond nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Q blinked and felt a bit slow, “alright?”

“I trust you.” Bond nodded, “just… I don’t trust that there isn’t still a leak of some sort in Six–either in the computers or the people.”  He looked down at the vial in Q’s hands, “even an unintentional leak can be devastating, and some people talk too much, or trust the wrong people–God knows I’ve used that.”

“Then… sit down.  I must warn you it’s… the needle isn’t small, and I had to… maybe it would be best if I strapped your arm down…”

Bond smiled, “I’ve done worse to myself, I’m sure.”

Q shrugged and got the equipment set up.  He remembered all too well how intensely difficult it was to give himself the injection–one of the other reasons he never got around to giving himself this vial.  Bond, however much it hurt, didn’t move at all: if Q hadn’t been watching he would have missed the muscle twitch in his jaw.

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

“Will it keep hurting?”

“No. once the carrier fluid circulates and  evens out, it will stop.  The best thing for it is to move–pump it through your system as fast as possible.”  Q frowned, “and don’t shift.  Given how fast shifting degrades the nanite load? Shifting when it’s still mostly in one area would… I don’t suggest it.”

“Then I think I’ll go jogging.” Bond nodded, only the set of his jaw making it clear that it wasn’t much easier for him.

“After the reports of my first tester, I have been trying to figure out how to make this… less painful, but I haven’t had a lot of time.”

“Yeah… well… keep working on it.  Otherwise you won’t get many repeat customers.”  And Bond changed into running gear and left.

It took him two hours to come back, dripping sweat and looking a lot better. The food order got there a few minutes later while Bond was in the shower, and was set up and waiting when he came out in clean clothes.

“Lucky timing.” Bond nodded.

“No luck about it,” Q smiled, “would you like to see your jogging track? I ordered when it seemed likely you were on route home.”

Bond stared at him, “ah… right… that was the point… you tracked me now?”

“Certainly.” Q nodded, “I told you London is easy…”

Alan chose that moment to show up and demand his food.

“I’m surprised Merlin isn’t here…”

“Merlin is mooching off one of my neighbors.” Q said easily, having rehearsed it. “he’s an incorrigible flirt.”

Bond smiled, “yes, I suppose he is.” He petted Alan, “Not that Alan isn’t very nice, but he’s a bit more aloof.”

They ate dinner and Bond wanted to see the tracking…

That was scarily impressive. “I avoided the cameras at several points, as practice…”

“I noticed.” Q nodded, “but you were still easily in range.  It wont be nearly this simple to track you in the field.”

“Well… that’s what field tests are for, aren’t they, Quartermaster?”

“Indeed, Double Oh Seven.” Q smirked.

Bond packed up and left.

“And Bond?”

“Yes?”

“I expect this equipment back in one piece.”

“I’ll do my best.” Bond flashed one of those rare smiled and left.

Q sat down on the sofa and stared at a small scar in his arm, from where he had been unable to keep still during the injection, despite strapping his arm down.

“you better succeed, you berk.”

 


End file.
